


Get Back The Finished Story!

by gisho



Category: GetBackers
Genre: 100-word Drabbles, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - High School AU, Ficlet Collection, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gisho/pseuds/gisho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short pieces and a few unfinshed ones, for the GetBackers universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True 100-word drabbles, originally for the just_100 community on LiveJournal.

#### Kindness

This Ren remembers: once (upon a time) she had a brother called Makube, who she loved. When she was nine he went away. She does not remember why.

This Ren remebers: there was a boy called Makubex who ruled with an allseeing eye. She hated him, until his madness was cured.

This Ren knows only by deduction: they are one and the same. She does not blame her grandfather for making her forget what happened to Makubex. She is sure he thought it was kindest.

"I want to remember you," she tells Kazuki. She will not let it happen again.

\--

#### Good To The Last Drop

Paul makes _good_ coffee.

It's taken him years of practive to learn all the triks - the water has to be exactly the right temperatue, and be clean water, preferably filtered; the beans have to be freshly ground, and it shouldn't be made too far in advance.

He serves up every cup with the pride of a true artist, in the comfortable knowledge that his coffee is something to be savoured, that his customers won't find better in Tokyo.

Which is why it annoys him so much that Ban usually gulps it down in a few seconds. Art deserves appreciation.

\--

#### Reputations

He was called Mr. No-Brake, but truthfully he put on the brakes quite a lot. One didn't get to be known as a reckless driver by being a reckless driver; what one got that way was smashed. He drove carefully except on the job.

Doctor Jackal found it amusing, and would sometimes joke about it, tossing out barbs in a way that revealed the friendship behind them. But then again, Mr. No-Brake would point out in return, Jackal didn't drive, and regarded the world of machines as somewhat beneath him.

As for Lady Poison, she just smiled at every stoplight.

\--

#### The Naming of Hackers

_(Cowboy Bebob crossover.)_

Edward Wong Hau Pepulu Tivursky the Fourth (or possibly Francoise Lufen) had too many names, and Makubex didn't have enough. He also didn't smile enough.

"Ed could give you some of hers," she suggested.

"It doesn't work like that. Names aren't something you can give away, like you could give someone ... oh, your computer."

"My computer's a part of me," she protested. "But names are just names."

Makubex did smile then. "It's okay, really. I'm used to just being Makubex." He shuffled his feet in the virtual sand, and Ed wondered if she could give him a few smiles, instead.

\--

#### Business Rivalry

_(RODTV crossover.)_

Ban and Ginji surveyed their opponents with growing dismay. The blonde was pointing a paper bow at them, the brunette was petting a literal paper tiger, and the redhead was clutching the object of their mission.

"Give it up!" Ban shouted. "We're the invincible GetBackers!"

"The Paper Sisters never lose!" The blonde steadied her aim. There was a long silence.

Then the redhead tossed the book at Ginji. "Screw it. Let's go."

"Anita!" The blonde dropped her aim, looking scandalized.

"They aren't paying us enough for this. Come _on_ , Michelle." The redhead turned away, ignoring Ginji's frantic yells of thanks.

\--

#### Bad Idea

For Halloween, Natsumi made caramel apples and invited Hevn over to help hand them out. "We can watch a movie afterwards," she suggested. "Just us girls."

When Hevn fell asleep on the couch after they watched _Dracula_ , Natsumi giggled and decided not to wake her.

In the morning light, Hevn looked discomposed but lovely. Natsumi watched her sleeping, feeling stange impulses, and finally could no longer resist. She was quiet as a mouse as she bent over the sleeping woman.

In retrospect, though, waking Hevn up while wearing a goblin mask was a bad idea. Those fingernails were very sharp.

\--

#### Third Time's The Charm

The first time Natsumi got drunk, it was to see what it was like. She regretted it. The hangover was terrible.

The second time Natsumi got drunk, it was because her mother had just died. She didn't feel any better in the morning, but she felt better in the evening.

The third time Natsumi got drunk, it was to celebrate her high school graduation. She invited Ban and Ginji over, and woke up on the couch with Ginji's head in her lap. Ban was already making coffee. The smell was delightful. Everything was nicer with your friends along, she decided.

\--

#### Boundary

Sometimes Ren would go to the very edge of the Infinite Castle and hold her hand out the door. It felt strange, like a sleeping limb, and it looked stranger. Still, she did it. It was the closest she could come to walking away.

When she saw Makubex watching her from the shadows, she was angry. She almost hit him. "What are you doing here?"

Makubex shrugged. "Watching you."

"Why? Because you think it's funny?"

"No." Makubex walked to the door and held up his hand, flat against the boundary. "Because I don't even have the courage to try."

\--

#### Summer

Ban despises summers. In winter, he can tell himself he's cold because it's winter. Come summer, he knows he's cold because he's starving to death.

 _Go away,_ he tells his tormentor. _Maybe I want to die. Huh? Did you think of that?_

 _Nontheless,_ the snake answers, _you'll find food. I won't let you die._

And Ban knows he could never turn aside food once he's gone to the trouble of finding it. _I hate you. You're not even real. You're a figment of my imagination._

 _I know. But I'm part of you,_ said the snake. _Enough to keep you living._

#### Metaphor

Sometimes the snake is quiet for a long time, only answering if Ban calls him. Ban can almost forget what he's sharing his mind with. Then he turns his thoughts the wrong way, and the nightmare opens up again. He wishes he could turn aside the thoughts, not his thoughts, but so close to the surface, so tantazilingly similar to his grim approximation of reality.

_You can tell yourself I'm a metaphor if it makes it easier. A hallucination._

Ban won't do this. He knows the borders of dreams too well. _Don't tempt me. I know exactly what you are._

\--


	2. Bookends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal. For a challenge from akatonbo: first and last kiss.

 

Amon was a bit overwhelmed by it all. He'd come back from the dead, been involved in - well, he wasn't quite sure what happened to Mugenjou, but neither, as far as he could tell, was anyone else. Except possibly Makubex, and he wasn't to ask nosy questions when the poor kid looked like he needed a few days sleep and a lot of hugs. Sakura had seemed happy to provide them. He might ask later, but for the moment he'd let them be.

It seemed like an impromptu festival, complete with dancing in the streets, had been declared, and so Emishi had dragged him around to introduce to everyone he knew. A lot of them seemed to be cute girls, but most of those, on further investigation, were his relatives. They were still hanging around en masse when Emishi noticed Amon yawning - by this point it was well past midnight - and pulled him away from the noise and light and smell of food into a little dark room. "You're conking out already?"

"Yeah. Long day." He grinned. "But you know, you were there. And there's always tomorrow, right? We have all the time in the world."

"Don't tell them that, they'll be partying past dawn." Emishi stuck his head out the door, then pulled it back and shut it firmly. "Ah, Aunt Mai is doing her notorious Confucius impression. The party usually starts to disintegrate around now. Good thing we got out." As if on cue there was a burst of racous female laughter. Amon giggled softly in sympathy. Emishi blithely continued, "If we snore loud enough someone will probably bring us breakfast. I know I've got some spare blankets around here somewhere," he declared, and began to dig in the pile of stacked boxes against the far wall.

"Er," Amon said, "could we share? Just for tonight," he added hastily.

He felt terribly selfish for suggesting it, but Emishi just smiled. "Sure." He tugged his glasses off and set them down on the floor, then leaned against the wall to start undoing his shoelaces. Amon followed, and then they were tumbled together on the futon, and Emishi was pulling the blanket over their heads. The carefully-cultivated habits of a lifetime were screaming at Amon to get away before he did any damage. He firmly ignored them and wrapped an arm around Emishi's waist, settling comfortably against his side. Emishi sighed contentedly. "I wonder if you're ticklish?" he muttered absently.

"Hey. I'm too tired to thwack you with a pillow right now."

"Fair enough." Emishi settled for ruffling his hair, and Amon grinned.

They lay quietly for a while, while the faint noises of the party drifted in from outside. Eventually Amon whispered, "Emi-yan?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"Thanks."

There was no response. Amon propped himself up on one elbow. Emishi's eyes were closed, and his breathing was deep and even. His hair was spread over the pillow. It would probably be a mass of tangles in the morning. He was smiling in his sleep.

Amon smiled to himself and brushed a kiss on the tip of Emishi's nose, then lay down and fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

\--

When Amon woke up the air was cold and the roof of the tent was sagging. He blinked at it a few times, then crawled out of their sleeping bag. There was already a little light creeping through the fabric. He gently tugged on the zipper and stuck his head outside.

The field was blanketed in snow, several inches deep. There was no sign of the firepit, and their campstove was visible only as a mound of snow on the end of the log. The tent could have grown up from the earth overnight for all the evidence that anyone had walked here.

He grinned and zipped the door shut, then pulled on his coat and boots. Emishi woke up while he was getting them laced, and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "G'morning."

"Emi-yan, it snowed last night." He couldn't restrain a sunny grin.

" ... You're kidding me. It's March already."

"Nope!" He pulled open the door with a dramatic flourish, and Emishi gave a murmur of appreciation.

They brushed off the log, and sat down to watch the sun rise while Amon brushed out Emishi's hair. This had become a morning ritual over the years, and all the jokes that could possibly be made were long since exhausted, so he generally worked in silence. It was still a little disconcerting that it was gray instead of brown. He set down the brush and wrapped his arms around Emishi's shoulders, leaning in close to breathe in his ear. "You think it's snowing in Tokyo right now?"

"Not a chance. It's already March, Amon, when was the last time it snowed in Tokyo in March?" He grinned. "They're gonna be so mad they missed it, too."

"So we won't tell them." Emishi shivered at the ticklish warmth. "We'll just enjoy it ourselves. Isn't it lovely? We could do snow angels. I havn't made snow angelss in years. And hey!" He sprung up and fished in the snow beside the log to produce a battered tin kettle, which he handed to Emishi with a flourish. "The universe is trying to be helpful! It filled the teakettle for us."

Emishi laughed and stood up to fiddle with the campstove. Amon turned away and eyed the snow-covered field speculatively. "You know," Emishi said, "I read somewhere that the least time the earth was as warm as it is now, on average, was in the Jurassic Era. Isn't that odd to think about? We could be sharing a climate with the dinosaurs. Pity, really, there are kids in Tokyo who've never even seen snow and they don't get dinosaurs to make up for it. Not that most of them were exactly things you'd want wandering around the streets, but I bet velociraptors could be domesticated, and they'd be a lot more interesting than pet igua-" There was a gasp and a clattering noise.

Amon spun around. Emishi has sunk to his knees beside the log; he was clutching at his shoulder. Biting back a string of curses, Amon knelt beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him from collapsing. "You alright?" It was barely a whisper.

Emishi shook his head and grabbed Amon's hand. "The whip," he said, almost gasping, "goes to Hinata. It's a family heirloom. Deliver it with my apologies, alright?"

"Don't talk like that. You were fine last year."

"Last year I had Juubei with me." Emishi managed a weak smile. "Couldn't go out like that, he wouldn't have appreciated it."

Amon kissed him. "Emi-yan .."

"It's fine. I always said I wanted to die in the arms of the woman I loved." His eyes crinkled. "Two out of three's not bad, right?"

"I love you," Amon said, because there wasn't really anything else he could say.

"I know."

Amon pressed his cheek against Emishi's hair, and their hands tightened.

Eventually Amon got up and righted the campstove. The sky was bright blue overhead, with only a few wispy clouds in the upper atmosphere. It was going to be a beautiful day.

\---


	3. Five Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts from various people on the theme of 'Five times . . . ' Originally posted on LiveJournal.

#### Five times Makubex smiled in spite of himself

1\. He meant to be serious about it, and put away smiles as a childish thing, an indulgence innapropriate to the man he had to be now. But when the Thunder Emperor said softly, "I'm glad you've joined the Volts," and gave him an irrepressable smile, he couldn't help but answer.

2\. When Shido left Makubex began running numbers, perhaps a little obsessively, as to how long it would be before Kazuki followed him. The number he arived at was ten days, thirteen hours, and six minutes. He took a certain grim satisfaction when he was twenty-seven seconds from correct.

3\. Things could have been worse, but not easily. There was blood on his hands, blood on the street, blood everywhere; most of it belonged to the man he had just killed, but probably some had belonged to the woman this man had stabbed to death the night before, the fourth of his victims. Makubex felt sick, and he felt Juubei's eyes on the back of his neck like a solemn prnouncement of his sins.

And then a small child - the murdured woman's brother, he vaugely recalled - slipped out of the silent huddle of witnesses and solemnly pressed a piece of candy into the hand that wasn't holding the knife.

4\. When he finally woke up Makubex hurriedly opened the program he had been working on, but as he scrolled down it became obvious that it was already done, and as he read it again to make sure there were no bugs to be found. "I finished that while you were asleep," Sakura murmured demurely. "Since we needed it soon, and I didn't want to wake you. Did I do it right?" He assured her that she had done well, and thought to himself: she'll make a good queen when I'm dead.

5\. He had only asked them to follow him to the end of the world, but the end of the world had come and gone, and they were all there still, waiting.  
\--

#### Five times Kazuki tried ~~(and failed)~~ to prove he wasn't gay

  
1.

"... None. Not that it's any of your business."

"See?" Ban crowed. "If you're not gay, why else wouldn't you have slept with any women?"

"Because I've never met a woman I wanted to sleep with," Kazuki said, with pure candy coated-malice. "How many women have you slept with, Midou-san?" Ban seethed, but did not reply.

2.

Kazuki, quivering with suprssed annoyance, dug through his bag and produced a paperback book, which he tossed out on the table. It was a romance novel, but the cover showed two curvaceous women in scanty chainmail, clinging to each other with more that sororal affection. It might have worked, if Ban hadn't picked the book up, flipped through, and began to read out deadpan: "I gasped and pulled him close, revelling in the feel of his broad, muscular chest. 'I've wanted this so long,' his rumbing voice resounded in my ear. 'Ever since you raised your helmet that first day in the training yard, I've wanted this.' I ran my hands down the chisled planes of his biceps and purred, 'Never before has a man been my equal in battle.' He pressed his lips to mine, our tounges beginning an intriate dance so like the play of our swords on that brilliant summer day, and fated, as that was, to end in a draw ..."

3.

In retropect, if he was going to prove he wasn't gay by asking a woman on a date, it should have been to somewhere other than the symphony, and it shoud have been someone other than Clayman. Not that she wasn't devastatingly handsome in a tuxedo.

4.

"Wow." Ginji squinted at the scrap of paper. "How'd you do that? I thought the only people he gave the combination to were his wife and his mistress."

"Yes. His wife, who knows about his mistress. I'm quite capable of charming a lonely, bitter woman," Kazuki told them cheerfully. "She frequents the Blooming Lilac Club; I pretended to be one of the staff and let her pour out her troubles. She even asked me to a private room - I had to tell her my shift was over and invite her back."

"Blooming Lilac," Ban said thoughtfully, and blew a smoke ring. "Isn't that one of those upscale hostess clubs?"

Kazuki silently counted to ten and reminded himself that Hevn would probably want her violet skirt back soon.

5.

"Isn't she just the most beautiful thing ever?" Kazuki declared, and Ginji agreed and cooed at Kazuki's daughter. She giggled and tried to nibble his fingers. Ginji giggled back, and Kazuki, satisfied, sat back to watch them play.

Ban snorted and lit a cigarette. "This just does not make sense," he said. "How come the gay guy is the first one to spawn? You'd think Shido and Madoka would be popping our sprogs by now, and they havn't even set a date."

"I'm not gay." Kazuki sipped his cappuchino and raised an eyebrow. "How do you think I'd have a child if I were?"

Ban adopted a professorial pose and took a long drag on his cigarette. "See, when two men love each other very much, and want to have a kid but don't have the right bits, they find a woman who likes them a little too much and use this wonderful invention called a turkey baster - "

"Sakura wouldn't have stood for that sort of thing. My daughter was concieved the old-fashioned way." Kazuki raised his other eyebrow. "You know, the bug-eyed look doesn't suit you. And you should probably rinse you shirt off before it stains. Coffee is very hard to get out of whites."

Ban deflated. "So what are you, then?"

"I believe the term you're looking for is _bisexual_ ," Kazuki offered. "Could you please pass the sugar?"

\--

#### Five times Toshiki tried to be romantic

1\. Will you stay with us? Kazuki asked him that night. Toshiki felt as though his heart might break, and he fell to his knees without thinking. I love you, he said, and it took him a moment to realize that he had not said it aloud. He managed to gather his thoughts, and say that of course he would stay. Kazuki smiled and tilted his head, and the bells in his hair jingled a little. Toshiki continued, in the most flowerly langauge he knew, and when he stopped Kazuki laid a hand on his shoulder and thanked him. He couldn't remember ever being happier.

2\. Kazuki accepted the flower with a grateful smile and tucked it behind his ear, and there to Toshiki's amazement it remained for the better part of the afternoon, until it was knocked loose by a barely-dodged blow and fell to the street to be trampled, releasing its last sweet scent only in death.

3\. He never got the nerve to actually write down any of the poetry.

4\. Toshiki knew he should have been sleeping, but he couldn't bring himself too, not with the moonlight slanting in at just the right angle and scattering glints of beauty off Kazuki's hair. He ran his hand a few centimeters from its surface, for he knew better than the destroy the moment with a touch.

5\. He gave the bag of candy to Kazuki hesitantly, and tried to pretend he wasn't upset at all when Kazuki ate three and then gave three more to Juubei, three to Sakura, three to Saizou, and the rest to a little girl who passed them by and stopped to stare in awe and murmur how strong they looked. She scampered off clutching it to her chest, giggling and promsiing to give some to her sisters. Toshiki thought about how easy affection slipped through Kazuki's fingers, and resolved that he would not be passed on so easily.

\--

#### Five times Kazuki got mistaken for a woman.

1\. When he first saw the leader of Fuuga, Raitei thought that this was the most powerful fighter he had seen in a while, and gloried in the thought of a new ally or a new enemy - either would do. Ginji, somewhere inside, blushed and giggled and thought this was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, and it was just a pity she had such a jealous boyfriend. It wasn't for some time that the title 'Prince of Battle Terror' fully sunk through his head.

2\. On the one hand, it was slightly humiliating to be given a break on the rent because he was 'a poor young girl all on her own in the world'. On the other hand, it wasn't as if he hadn't tried to correct the manager; she'd just kept talking over him. And it wasn't as if he had the money to spare.

3\. "That time of the month?" I'm so sorry," the girl at the checkout counter said sympathetically. Kazuki looked down at the extra-large asprin bottle, three paperback novels, and small pile of choclate bars. Somehow he didn't have the heart to tell her he was in fact planning to spend the next two or three days in bed because he had sprained an ankle and wrenched his back jumping out a window to avoid a security guard with a tranquilzer gun. She looked like such a nice, normal girl. He took extra care not to limp as he walked out of the store.

4\. It wasn't that it wasn't a perfectly nice dress. It was just that Kazuki didn't want to wear a dress to wander around Madoka's house while his clothes were being washed, and he didn't know whether to assume her maid had gotten confused, or whether he should find out the maid's e-mail and pass it on to Emishi.

5\. As he let the wig drop to the floor, for a half-second the expression beneath the Cursed Embroidery was one of utter and complete shock. He allowed himself a full second to gloat before getting down to business.

\--

#### Five things that make Juubei laugh.

1\. There are three people who know that Juubei is terribly ticklish on the inside of his left elbow. Kazuki is the only one who takes advantage of it, and does so sparingly, only when they are alone.

2\. Once, Emishi brought bottles of whisky to a council. He didn't say where he had gotten it; no-one asked. The Volts could generally get what they wanted. They did not abuse the privledge, so no one ever spoke against it. He passed them around and almost everyone took some, even Makubex, although he made a face at the first sip and passed it on with almost unseemly haste to Juubei. It burned his throat, but he found he liked the taste. Emishi meanwhile was merrily pouring it down his throat. He talked occasionally, though, and was still perfectly coherent.

When they finished and everyone got up to go their seperate ways, Emishi stood up, spun in place twice, swayed from side to side, then took three steps directly into a wall. Everyone looked shocked, although some of them covered their mouths and there was a suggestion of a giggle. Juubei went over to help him up. Emishi accepted the hand, then brushed him off and walked away, a little unsteadily but not, Juubei judged, in any further danger.

He went in the opposite direction and found a quiet, unihabited alley. Then he leaned against the wall and covered his mouth with his tunic, so no one could hear him laugh.

3\. When it's all over they go home together. Together. He should be watching the way the sunset reflects a thousand colors off the clouds and the streets glisten, clean with rain; he does not. He watches Kazuki instead. It has not been nearly so long as it feels like. A few months. In that time they have recovered all that they had, and more, and this image was the only thing denied him. When the door of Kazuki's apartment closes behind them Kazuki turns to Juubei and kisses him. As they fall into each other Juubei cannot help laughing from simple joy.

4\. Juubei had always had great respect for Shido, although they had never been close. He was pleased, if a little surprised, to be invited to his wedding. He and Kazuki showed up quite early; Kazuki promptly vanished with Madoka to commiserate over some mysterious aspect of the ceremony, and Juubei made his way to the backyard, most of which had been taken over by a ribbon-encrusted tent where a banquet was being busily constructed by a small army of caterers.

Eventually he slipped though the small gate into the rose-garden. Lying on the ground next to the fountian were Shido and the lion. It would have looked a lot less odd had Shido not been in his good suit, which by now had quite a lot of golden hair spread across it. Juubei stepped closer, but Shido didn't hear him. He continued scratching the lion behind the ears, and as Juubei approached he could hear the lion emitting a low, rumbling purr and Shido whispering: "Just the usual jitters. That's all. I'm not going to run away. Madoka would never forgive me."

The lion responded to this by extending its big, sandpaperly tounge and giving Shido a lick directly across his face. Shido gained an expression of faint dismay and ran a hand down his cravat to check for cat slobber, and that was when Juubei could help himself no longer and laughed aloud. Fortunately, Shido found it equally amusing once he'd taken a deep breath, and they did manage to get most of the lion hair off his suit.

5\. Kazuki was a little distressed to find his hair was going grey. "I'm too young for this," he said when he found the first strands. "This is ridiculous. I'm only forty." Juubei assured him that plenty of people had gray hair at forty, and that it was nothing to be worried about.

Kazuki perked up a little. "True," he murmured. "Why, I've known people who had grey hair at _ten_." Juubei did not even attempt to keep his agreement solemn.


	4. Ladies Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Various ficlets: what if some of the male characters in GB had been women instead? Originally posted on LiveJournal.

\--

"They call you the Witch Queen."

Ban smirks at the blond-haired boy, who's watching her so intently. "Yeah." She pulls back, readies herself for another attack; she is not dissapointed. The lightning flashes past her an inch too far away, and she ducks in. Snakebite.

It's her grandmother who's the Witch Queen, not her, but names make themselves sometimes.

They stagger apart, breathing heavily. "Who are you?" says the boy - the emperor - wonderingly. For a moment Ban is caught off guard.

"You tell me," she whispers.

The boy looks sad, and shakes his head. "I don't know yet."

\--

Ginji usually tastes of choclate. Ban takes every opportunity to kiss her. She doesn't even have to try hard to wheedle chocolate from him. It's almost a habit, like Ban's cigarettes.

She likes chocolate, now, as much for the kisses as for the taste. She loves kissing Ban, even if he does taste of cigarettes - he gets this look in his eyes, just like Ginji gets when she eats chocolate.

"Ban-chan," she says, and his mouth quirks. "Can I get some chocolate syprup? Canicanicani?"

His eyes are bright when he gets the idea. "If you really want," he says.

\--

Paul sighs pointedly as she collects Ban's empty cup. "You did get some asprin, right?"

"Yes." Ban watches as Paul fetches another cup. "I won't need it, though. It's just a scratch."

Paul sets the cup down with a thud. "You take care of yourself," she tells him flatly. "If you die, I'll never get your tab back, and it's a big investment by now."

"I'm not in any fucking hurry either, Paul," Ban growls. "You don't have to nag me all the time. You're not my mother."

"Yeah. I'm not your mother." Paul's expression is unreadable behind her sunglasses.

\--

She's worked hard, and become respected in a man's profession, although respect was never what she wanted. What she wanted was the blood. The respect was incidental, although she appreciates it; it smoothes her way.

Himiko is not in this business for the blood. There's a grim determination in her eyes, and a hollow look of loss. It reminds Akabane of long ago, and the determination is familiar. Familiar, too, is the astonishment as strong men realize this woman is stronger. Akabane hides her smile.

Doctor Jackal offers Lady Poison no support. Lady Poison would never forgive her for pity.

\--

"Dick-waving contest," Shido mutters. "I think Paul's missing the obvious."

Ban sighs and lights a cigarette. "It was just a few plates," he says mournfully. "Although he does have a point, you're not much of a girl. You don't even - " He reaches toward Shido's chest to demonstrate, but she slaps his hand away.

"Okay, I take that back. You fight like a girl." Ban sniffs.

Shido growls and stands up, and Ban does too, cracking his knuckles. "I don't know," Shido announces. "I still won, didn't I?" Ban's roar of rage is almost as beautiful as violin music.

\--

She's always been beautiful, never more so than when she fights. Kazuki knows this, and accepts it; she does not try to use it, but it is impossible not to. Hers is a strong beauty. It is appropriate to Mugenjou. Fragile flowers would never bloom here, but she did. Warriors flock to her banner; they are all in love with her, at least a little bit.

Sometimes she wonders whether a man could have done the same, whether it was respect or a desire to protect that drew them there, but then she looks at Juubei's eyes and knows better.

\--

Juubei is surprised by her own blush. She can scarcely believe the beautiful creature in front of her is a boy - he's so _sweet_ , such a lovely smile, and the sleeves of his kimono flutter in the breeze like butterfly wings.

"I'm so glad to meet you," Kazuki says.

Juubei swallows uncomfortably, suddenly aware of her gangly limbs and boyish face. "I like you," she blurts out, and winces. But boys are supposed to be blunt. Perhaps her masculinity is the proper counterweight to Kazuki's feminine grace. Their family traditions have balanced them, and brought out their true natures.

\--

Kagami is probably the only woman in Mugenjou to wear high heels. They're sensibly broad, not stilettos, but they and the miniskirt draw looks. Kagami finds it quite amusing, when people watch her legs, not her hands. Watching her hands wouldn't actually save them, but they'd feel less stupid when they died.

Himiko watched her hands. Kagami approves of this.

She's so beautiful, Kagami thinks as she lays Himiko on the altar, even if she doesn't know how to show it off. As a goodbye gift, she takes a kiss, and leaves Himiko's lips stained blood-red with her own lipstick.

\--

Emishi has been growing her hair out all her life, but it barely brushes her waist when she lets it down. "It's hopeless," she tells Kazuki. "Good thing I already had a whip, eh? This mess would never braid well enough to make one."

Kazuki eyes Emishi's ponytail. "Do you use conditioner?"

"No. Should I?"

"Yes. It's all split ends. Take better care of it, and it will grow longer."

"I can't believe I'm getting hair-care tips from a man."

"I'd explain how to wear a kimono as well, but you'd think I was mocking you."

Emishi falls down laughing.

\--

Gen wondered whether it was cruel of her to keep the boy so close, but the world was a hard place. "Grandmother," he called her, and she taught him everything she knew.

When he left, she wished she could have given him more. There was magic here, but he knew it better than she did. She would have given him a world of wishes, but what he wanted most was beyond her powers. "Call if you need me," she told him. He walked away.

Gen stayed quiet in her tower, knowing his story wasn't her story anymore, unless he called.

\--

She is small, weak, young. She doesn't care. It doesn't matter, except when it does. It stings, to be Raitei's little sister, everyone's little sister. Kaoru is contemptuous of her love, mocks her - silently; even she would not mock one of the Four Kings openly - for hoping Raitei would accept from Makubex, instead, what Kaoru would so eagerly give him.

Only Sakura treats her as a superior. Makubex is grateful, and keeps Sakura close.

When Raitei leaves, it is Sakura in whose arms Makubex cries. She doesn't mind being Sakura's little sister, since it was her choice alone.

\--


	5. Metaphor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal, for crumpeteater. Inspired by several pieces involving Shido using animals as metaphors for people; I figured Madoka should get the same treatment.

\--

She's never been in love before, but she knows how it's supposed to go. It's easy, by degrees.

She would compare it to the melody of a song, but it felt more inevitable than that - the harmony part, perhaps. The rhythym of their lives was determined long ago, and whatever melody they wished they could have put on top of it. Little things, the places they went, the kisses - those were the melody. Falling in love was the harmony, because it was not destiny, but it was still right and natural and all the little things are imporved for it. Of course she thinks in musical metaphors. Her life is music. Madoka has lived to the sounds of a violin.

She does not know what metaphors Shido would use to describe their love. It is more probable that he would not use metaphors; Shido is a man of practical simplicity, straightforward about almost all things. (The exceptions are important, however, and she notes them, remembers them, tries to draw him out.) Metaphors would only get in his way.

She thinks of people in musical terms. People have their preferred keys and measures; their lives are variations on a theme, measured by the rhythym of their days.

Although Madoka's specialty is not composing, she has turned her hand to it a few times. Most recently, she tried to compose something for Shido, about Shido. It did not work. She thinks of people like pieces of music, composes themes and hums them to remind herself of the faces of people she'll never see, but she never came up with Shido's theme.

\--

He has never fallen in love before, and he did not know how it was supposed to go. He didn't have to ask. Things went as they would, and Shido went with them. He was not sorry that it was Madoka.

He does now know what it was that drew them together, but he knows that he will stay with her. It is not a result of loyalty or devotion or desire, although a casual observer might conclude as much. It is simply a fact, an immutable aspect of himself. Fuyuki Shido has all the beasts of the world at his command, and he is a strong man and an honest one, and he will stay with Madoka forever.

\---


	6. Drunken Antics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for sexual content, alcohol use. Originally posted on LiveJournal.

By the fourth bottle Natsumi was swaying gently from side to side. "I, I, I," she managed, "take ... dare."

"Al-RIGHT! Booyah!" Ban held his glass in the air and clinked it against Ginji's. "I daresh you to do a dansh on the bar." He leaned back in his seat and lit a cigarette.

Natsumi stood up, one hand on the booth for support. "I'm not sure that's a good i, i, idea."

"Right! Master might be mad." Ginji nodded earnerstly, his big brown eyes sparkling with tears. "We don't want Master to be mad."

"Nonshenshe. He'sh not here." Ban waved expansivelly at the coathook where his jeans and shirt were now hanging (somewhere around the fourth bottle his undershirt had gotten used as a cleaning rag and was now sitting in the sink). "Jusht us! You don't mind danshing for us, do you? Huh?" Ginji, an equal-opportunity sobber, lay his head on Ban's shoulder and sniffled in despair at the idea Natsumi might not dance for them. "And take off your shirt," Ban added absently as he threw an arm over Ginji's shoulders.

"But, but then I won't be wearing i, it." Despite this unimpeachable logic Natsumi began to clamber hestiantly onto the bar.

Ban sniffed and took a long drink. "I did ash much for you, babe," he pointed out.

"Okay! But I, I get an extra turn from you." Ban nodded, and Natsumi stood up unsteadily on the bar and unbuttoned her shirt. She flung it to the ground, revealing a lacy red bra. Ban raised his glass again and cheered; Ginji sobbed with joy and wiped his eyes on Ban's hair.

Natsumi, when sober, was a good dancer. When as throughly shloshed as she was, she moved clumsily, continually on the edge of falling, but her enthusiasm was apparent, and Ban's whoops and whistles only encouraged her. She spun cheerfully along the bar, knocking over several glasses but never quite falling.

When she reached the end Ban began to clap. Natsumi beamed and attempted to take a bow, which was when she finally overbalanced and plummeted.

Despite their extreme inebriation, both Ban and a still-sobbing Ginji were halfway across the room by the time she hit the floor. Ginji crawled the rest of the way as fast as his shaking legs would move, and cradled her head in his hands while Ban bit his lip. "Natsumi, you're okay, right?" Ginji asked solemnly.

Natsumi winced. "I thi, think so." She stared up at him, her expression going dreamy again. "And now you, you BOTH owe me a turn."

"Dare," they said simultaineously.

Natsumi gave them a big goofy grin, and suddenly they realized what a stupid idea saying 'Dare' had been. 

\---


	7. Overcompensating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on LuveJournal; written for [silverstrings](http://silverstrings.livejournal.com/), who asked for Ban/Kazuki. This was the closest I could come but it did stretch my creating abilities a bit, at least. Triple-drabble.

"You're overcompensating, you know," Kazuki purred.

Ban stopped still, his hands still settled on Hevn's breasts, and looked over at Kazuki. "What the hell? Thread-spool -"

Kazuki sniffed. "Please. No one cares if you're screwing Ginji -" Ban choked and went purple - "and you only manage to make youself look like a complete jerk. No one is _that_ macho unless they're trying to convince themselves of something. If you were a little more confident of your masculinity -" he didn't say _like me_ , but it was obvious from his smug expression and Ban growled - "you would actually be nice to people once in a while. And a little polite. And maybe even kiss a man in public without having utter fits about it."

Ban scowled, and then, to Kazuki's utter shock, grabbed him and kissed him firmly on the lips. He tried to shove his tounge into Kazuki's mouth, but the other man clenched his jaw tightly, and his hand flew up to grab his bells. After half a moment Ban pulled back, his face flushed and his breath fast. "I am not _overcompensating_ ," he growled.

Kazuki wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Excellent. If you ever feel moved to do that again, could you please brush your teeth first? You taste like an ashtay." He waved languidly at Natsumi, who was hiding her giggles in her hands. "Another cup, please." Slowly, Hevn began to clap.

Ban looked between them wildly, then turned bright red. "Oh gods," he muttered to no one in particular, and fled toward the bathroom.

At that moment, Ginji wandered in the door, idly tossing a hacky-sack on one toe. "Ban-chan -" He looked between them, confused. "What's going on? Why's Hevn-san clapping?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Kazuki told him cheerfully, and hid his smile in his cup.

\---


	8. Safety Catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal for [corneredangel](http://corneredangel.livejournal.com/), who asked for Ban and a gun.

Ban wasn't really suprised when he found a gun underneath the counter. Paul was, after all, the sort of man usually decribed as 'mild-mannered', complete with undertones of subtle menace. It was more than possible he was in the smuggling business on the side, although the padlock on the basement door was beyond Ban's skill to open.

Still, it wasn't what he was looking for, and so he set it carefully aside before he resumed his hunt for the secret stash of cigarettes. (There had to be one.)

"Ban-chan?" came a querelous voice. "What's this?" Ban winced and climbed out, careful not to hit his head. Ginji had picked up the gun and was peering curiously at it. His eyes widened. "A handgun? Why's it here?"

At that moment, the door chimed and swung open. Ban sighed and leaned against the counter, fishing for a cigarette before remembering that he was out, completely out, and that was why he'd been trying to borrow from Paul. "Hello~!" chimed a familiar voice. "I brought - EEEK!" A thump, as though she'd dropped something. Ban held onto the counter as he pulled himself upright. Natsumi was shivering, staring at Ginji, who had the gun pointed toward the door and a puzzled look.

"Shit," Ban muttered. "Ginji, give that here, it's not ours, we shouldn't mess with it - " He paused, because Ginji had a tendency to do things too fast. " _Carefully._ "

"Ah - alright," Ginji said, and handed it back. Ban took the gun by its barrel and set it down in front of him.

Natsumi had pulled herself together by this time, and picked up the bundle she had dropped, with a laugh. "Sorry," she exclaimed, a little breathlessly. "You startled me. I know I shouldn't be scared, Master keeps that thing loaded with blanks. Would you like some pie? I baked it myself."

"Hold on," said Ban. "You knew he kept a gun under the counter?"

Natsumi nodded, and handed Ban the bundle. Automatically he began to unwrap it; the smell of warm blueberries drifted out. "Yeah. The loaded one's behind the flour." She appeared oblivious to Ban's look of shock as she continued, "He's been teaching me target shooting - I'm not very good yet, but I'm getting better, really! And besides, he says most people are so scared of guns they won't even notice if you miss. Where's the cake knife? I know I washed it."

"Ah, right here," piped up Ginji eagerly, and produced it with a flourish. The knife block wobbled dangerously, but didn't actually fall over. "You've really been learning target shooting, Natsumi-chan? That's so cool!"

Ban took a seat at the counter, wishing again for a cigarette. He listened as Natsumi explained the basic principles of aiming a handgun to Ginji, and watched her earnest face and tiny hands, and suddenly felt a chill in his stoumach.

When they finished the pie, Natsumi vanished to the back room. Ginji trailed after her, but stopped in the doorway, glancing back at Ban. "Ban-chan? Did you know about the gun?"

"I thought it might be around," Ban said. "Don't worry, I'll put it back and he'll never know it was gone. Unless Natsumi mentions it. Can you talk to her?"

"Sure!" Ginji grinned and left.

Ban picked up the gun and weighed it between his hands. Only blanks, he thought. Well, it's a cafe, even if it might have other things in the basement. Not someplace dangerous.

Not someplace where the waitresses should need to know how to shoot.

He wiped the grip with his shirt-tail before he put it away, and told himself it was just a hobby.

\---


	9. The List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal.

Ban kept a List in his head. It was a short list, and it rarely changed. He'd started when he left Maria; the list was only two things long then: Food, a warm jacket. A few weeks later he broke his glasses, and they took the third spot. He didn't really need glasses. They were handy sometimes, but he could work without them. What with one thing and another, they stayed on the list for months and months, until long after the warm jacket had been stolen and taken off.

He was fifteen when 'cigarettes' crept into the first spot, displacing 'food'. Cigarettes depressed the appetite. Besides, he was used to going hungry; nicotene cravings were new. They stayed there for almost five months.

Shortly afterwards there were two additions: gas for the car, and food for Ginji.

Food was second. It had to be second. They could go quite a while without eating, and when they did eat it tended to be in quantity. The car was pickier. They depended on that car. Gasoline was first. He explained this to Ginji, quietly but firmly, the first time it came down to it. And Ginji swallowed and nodded, and he pouted and complained about not having had dinner but he didn't protest that they'd gotten gas instead. It was just the way things worked.

When things were good, he could knock out the entire list. No problem. Someday they'd be having good times all the time. The problems came when it was down to three, or two. He did his best to be nonchalant. He shrugged and said he'd just take some food off Ginji's plate, and then somehow didn't manage when they had their habitual scuffle. Whatever else he'd do to his partner, he wouldn't let him go hungry if he could possibly help it.

Ginji could be very perceptive sometimes. Sometimes. He didn't notice until the second winter. "Ban-chan," he said, his reproachful words a little muffled by the last bites of anpan. "We could have had two if you hadn't gotten cigarettes."

Ban leaned back and deliberately took a very long time to light up. "You never try to _steal_ my cigarettes, Ginji."

Ginji tilted his head. In his oversize sweatshirt he looked far younger than he was, and the quizzical expression didn't help. "Cigarettes are bad for you. Food is good for you."

Yeah, for him it was that simple, wasn't it?

"Look, every man's entitled to a few vices. Nothing wrong with smoking. Helps me think." He sighed and took a deep drag. The first few times he'd tried this, he had coughed for five minutes and he had felt his throat closing up. He didn't really notice it anymore. It was calming, though, to be able to take a drag and feel the smoke filling up his lungs and the nicotine melt into his bloodstream. "You eat like a fucking _brontosaurus_ , s'how come you think everyone does. If I ate like you do I'd be too big to move."

"Ban-chan." Ginji had swallowed by now, and he was staring firmly at the bench between then. All three inches of it. "You havn't eaten since _Tuesday._ "

"I'm not hungry." It was true. He wasn't. And there was that List. Gas for the car, food for Ginji, cigarettes, food for him. In that order. He knew how to set priorities.

Ginji frowned at him, and suddenly there were arms around him and his cigarette was dangling over the back of the bench. "Ban-chan, your _ribs_ are sticking out," Ginji mumbled into his shoulder. "You're always acting cold. Like it's creeping right down to your bones, you know? Hot soup's good for that. You should eat more." He nodded, as if this settled it, and Ban could feel the movement against his chest. It wasn't, he told himself fiercely, as if he wasn't eating at all. He just wasn't eating as much as Ginji. Nothing wrong with that. He'd rather have the cigarettes.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "You don't have to worry about me, right? Not the invincible Ban Midou."

He thought Ginji would argue, but after a little bit there was a muffled rendition of "Okay, Ban-chan." And then Ginji was sitting beside him again, beaming as though he hadn't a care in the world. "Hey, do you think Paul's not mad at us anymore? Would he give us hot cocoa? Do you think it's going to snow tonight? It's that kind of sky, don't you think?"

And because Ban was observant all the time about most things, he noticed that Ginji started trying to nab the money from Hevn first, and that somehow, there weren't quite as many cigarettes, and somehow there was always enough for two dinners on two plates. He didn't speak of it. Neither of them did.

But somewhere in his head, he revised his list. Gas, food for Ginji, food for him, cigarettes. If anything was left over, another blanket. It wouldn't do to let Ginji worry.

\---


	10. Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for discussion of sex; jossed by the manga ending. Originally posted on LiveJournal.

  
There were so many points in Midou Ban's life where things had taken abrupt turns for the worse that he had sworn off regret, but he kept regretting anyway.

For one, he regretted not having slept with Yamato. It was small and silly but then, most of his regrets were small and silly, because he didn't let himself think about the really big things. He didn't regret being born, he didn't regret that the taxi he took to the airport when he was eight hadn't crashed and killed him, before he could encounter all the heartaches Japan had lined up for him. He didn't regret leaving Maria, even when his stoumach was so empty that it hurt, even when he couldn't decide whether to sleep and have nightmares or stay awake and have worse. He didn't regret having met Yamato and Himiko, not even at the end.

Instead he regretted the little things, because they were more bearable. Things like having lost the last bite of sushi to Ginji, or taking the last sushi roll from Ginji when those big brown eyes were turned on him with innocent hunger. Things like not having remembered to fill his gas tank. Not having slept with Yamato was just about the top of the list, because it was the biggest thing he could regret without real hurt. At the time, he'd been grateful, even, that Yamato had been understanding and reasonable and not made him feel like a little kid about it. It was just a crush, and it was normal for a boy his age to be a little confused, and there was really nothing to worry about. At the time he'd been grateful that Yamato only kissed him, and didn't give him anything more to worry about.

In retrospect it stung. What even he had thought was a boyish crush at the time, through the shading of years, began to look like love. If Yamato were still alive, he thought, it wouldn't matter - but then again, if Yamato were still alive ...

... no. He wasn't going to think about that at all because it didn't happen, hadn't happened, wasn't going to have happened no matter how hard he wanted it to have.

As it was, Ban was still a virgin, and had begun to suspect he'd stay a virgin well into his twenties, if not his forties. However much he flirted with cute girls, his heart wasn't in it. It was nice to ogle them, it was really nice when they paid for dinner, it was occasionally nice to grope them. All very well and good and healthy. But the prospect of actually getting a cute girl in bed he wasn't quite so eager for.

He wondered about Himiko. She was practically his sister and he didn't want to think of her like that, but Yamato had been practically his brother and that hadn't stopped him thinking. Ban finally decided to put the idea aside until ... until Himiko turned seventeen, was a good way not to think about it too hard. Then, after the mess was over with (and he'd done what he promised Yamato), then he'd figure out what to do with his own feelings for her. He really didn't want to mess things up (not with Yamato's sister, not with the one he was sworn to protect, not with Himiko, who he loved, even if he didn't know how). So all that would have to wait until there was no possibility of its becoming another regret.

Ban didn't really like men, either. (Except maybe for Yamato.) So it confused him no end when he found himself watching Ginji. He wasn't a kid anymore, to have a stupid little-kid crush, and anyhow he'd know, wouldn't he? Besides, well, it would be stupid to think about Ginji that way. Ginji was his partner and his best friend and ... everything. Ginji was his entire world, was the thing. If it wern't for Ginji he would be living for his promise to Yamato and when that was over and done with he wouldn't be living for anything and then he wouldn't be living at all. But he had Ginji, and that was enough.

Maybe it wasn't as stupid as all that.

He was determined not to mess things up with Ginji, either, and he had no idea if it would mess things up to look at him like that. Probably not. After all, this was Ginji, who was sweet and understanding and loved everyone. Ginji didn't dwell on things. Ginji had regrets, too, but they were all big ones, because he let little things slide. He didn't care who got the last sushi roll for more than ten seconds afterwards. He considered car breakdowns added variety to life. And he regretted the things that Raitei had done, but he accepted them too, knew that all that was in the past now. That he wasn't Raitei anymore, and it didn't matter.

He had the biggest, sunniest grin Ban had ever seen, and the most wide-open heart. Ban told himself it was no wonder he kept thinking of kissing Ginji, not when he smiled like that. Everyone who saw that smile fell in love with it. He wondered if it wasn't Ginji who was really responsible for Himiko forgiving him. After all, Ginji had been smiling at her even while she was trying to kill him.

It was stupid to be jealous, he told himself. Ginji smiled at everyone. It didn't mean anything. It was just his imagination that Ginji's smile was a little warmer for him (and why did he care? why did he like that idea?) than anyone else. If Ginji was interested, he'd make a move. He hadn't, so he wasn't. (Never mind that Ginji was too innocent and too doubtful to even raise the possibility.) Never mind that he kept dreaming about it.

He did regret, though, that the question was still there. He should have asked it long ago, if Ginji wouldn't. Either know that there was a spark (hah!) between them, and make an exception for Ginji (who he did love, even if he didn't know how), or know that it was nothing but his lonely imagination.

Ban wouldn't regret making an exception for Ginji. Ginji was an exception to everything, anyway.

\---


	11. trenchcoat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal. From a GetBackers/Tokyo Babylon crossover that will never be written.

"No, Himiko-san, I don't believe I shall join you. Sakurazuka-san would not be pleased to see me again."

"Why not?" Himiko tugged irritably at the too-short skirt she had been forced to borrow, hoping she would not encounter another fight before she could go home and change. The matching hat had already been removed and stuck in her waistband.

Akabane smiled languidly. "We had a disagreement of sorts over the unpleasant characters who happened upon us earlier. A territorial argument, you might say. He took offense to the fact that I disposed of them before he had an opportunity to. He seemed to regard it as his perogative to defend the honor of the children. You, I believe, had already escorted them to saftey by then, so you would not have heard." He tilted his head, as if suddenly remebering something. "Also, I stole his trenchcoat."

\---


	12. out there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfinished section - the end to a fic that will probably never be written. Post-manga-ending, vauge spoilers. Originally posted on Livejournal.

\---

_(The call comes almost as soon as she gets home. The doctor sounds very apologetic. They haven't determined the cause of death, he says. If she could come by -_

_When she arrives his body is still warm. Of course she cannot make out the expression on his face, but she reaches out and folds her hand over his, stiff and cool and still clutching the rabbit. At least they hadn't taken it away from him. Small mercies. A different doctor from the one who had called her offers his apologies on the death of her son. She absently corrects him. They're not related, but his mother died long ago. It would have been a family suicide. It didn't quite work. That was why he was institutionalized._

_All done with now, though. It chills her to think what really happened to his mother._

_She makes arrangements without really thinking about it, with the same detatched calm she called on when her own son died. The boy did not have many possesions - the rabbit, a worn copy of Alice in Wonderland and a barely-read book on chaos theory, a notebook half-filled with his fine, spidery handwriting. He had not written in it since his mother left. He had not spoken since he was a small child, but for years and years he had made do with frustrated hand signals, scribbled notes, the half-measures of a mind existing on some plane of pure mathematics at the expense of the world of human friendship, human love. Then, not even those. His mind was either shut off completly, or simply not there. Taken away._

__Given the timing, she rather suspected the latter._ _

_I hope you did well by him, she says to no one in particular. It's too late for him here. I hope you gave him a chance. She looks down at what she can make out of the lights of Tokyo spread out below her and hopes that with some world, somewhere, all is well.)_

\---


	13. dying is easy, comedy is hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unifished pieces of a very long fic that would have been called 'Dying is Easy, Comedy is Hard'. Originally posted on LiveJournal.

  
_[Very obviously part of a much longer scene.]_

Shido sighed and put his face in his hands. He was cuter when he blushed than any surly nine-year-old had a right to be. Of course, the flowers in his hair helped. "I can't believe I'm related to you."

"We're related?" Amon tilted his head and blinked a few times.

"Well, your mom's grandfather was my father's brother." Shido shrugged. "'S'why Father said I should try to make friends with you. You didn't _know_?"

Amon shook his head, unsettled, and absently broke off a grass stem, twirling it between his fingers. "Da never said. I just knew she was dead." There was no readable expression on his face. "She was a Fuyuki?"

"Yeah. Something wrong with that?"

"No, no, nothing at all!" He smiled like he was trying to light up the whole meadow. "Just - Da never talks about her. At all. It sort of explains a lot, yanno? Hey, you've never met my da, have you? You wanna come have dinner with us?"

\--

Amon's father turned out to be a tallish man with incredibly messy hair and an air of distraction. He was sitting on the porch, fiddling with a half-unwoven basket. To Shido's astonishment, he looked no older than twenty-five. Shido knew some people with fathers that young, but very few who had learned to walk yet. His own father had been grey-haired since his earliest memory, and so he always thought of fathers as something ancient, and mothers only slightly less so. There was a woman about the age of his mother in the kitchen; Amon adressed her as Grandma, and she ruffled their hair and gave them each a plum.

Amon grabbed a second one and rushed back to the porch. Shido trailed him, not sure what to make of this place. There were wildflowers growing close to the house, but no garden as far as he could tell, and the house itself was in what struck him as reckless disrepair; the roof was the only part that didn't make him nervous to look at. Surely if people were going to take up the land for a house, they should take pride in it? What if there was a rainstorm? Summer rainstorms happened all the time. He'd seen holes in most of the walls. Amon's father didn't seem to have gotten anywhere with the basket. He looked up at their footsteps, and Amon pressed the second plum into his hand. "Here, Da. Plum. Gramma says dinner's getting close."

"Oh." He glanced at the plum without apparent comprehension, then his eyes caught Shido and focused on him with disturbing intensity. "Who's this?"

"This is Shido. He's from the Fuyuki. The Fuyuki chief's son," Amon added as an afterthought. "He's a friend of mine."

The man stared at him for a few seconds, then turned away. "Be careful, then," he said. It was impossible to tell which of them he was adressing, but Shido had a sinking feeling that the comment was meant for him alone. "Opposites attract. And cancel out."

\--

_[This is just weird. But less so if you have the coherent version from Emishi's POV. Meant as a flashback.]_

He remembered bits and pieces, later. Impressions more than actual scenes. He remembered thinking that Madoka's smile was so beautiful when it was her own smile, and a tension in his shoulders at how careful it was, and he knew those were not his own thoughts. There were falling leaves, and someone walked through them barefoot, enjoying the gentle crackle and regretting that they would go away in a day or two. He did not remember the color of the leaves. She was cold, though, colder than she should have been for the still warm air, and she went inside and he faded away when she went to change into something warmer. At some point he had asked a dog, _may i?_ and the dog had answered, _you don't seem like a bad sort. come in_ and then the world had been in faded colors overlain with deliciously intense smells, and he had jumped up beside his mistress, who had deserved everything he'd given up for her even if it hadn't been for her but for Shido, and let her wrap his arms around him and he licked at her hand, like a kiss. She was happy he was there.

He was happy too. The house was warm and safe and could bear the bit of cold, The wind blew bits of snow against the windows - snow, in Tokyo! - and he thought it wasn't nearly so nice as the snows up north, but he wasn't about to go looking; he did not know if he could ever find his way back. No. Of course he could; his heart was here. The snows went away and the dog was happy too.

The night was very long, but everything was done properly anyway.

There was too much light and noise indoors so he went outside, and rememberd with odd clarity because nobody else was outside, or at least he thought there was no one outside until he found the man curled up against a tree, petting a small grey cat. Arguing with her. _Just because Makubex makes me do things with a reproachful look doesn't mean I have to put up with it from you, kitty._ The kitty gave him a reproachful look and he laughed. Amon didn't like the sound of it, which wasn't very real. She scowled and slipped out from his hands, and he buried his face in them and whimpered. Crunching footsteps. There was another man with the cat and his heart warmed up from his presence. _How drunk are you exactly, Emishi? Come inside, you'll freeze to death._ The man under the tree tried to look like he hadn't been crying. _Oh, very. Alcolhol keeps you warm, don't you know? Medicinal._ They went back in leaning on each other, and he had the garden to himself and the birds that hadn't gone south, who didn't mind him and were fluffed up and content with their lot.

It was dark but it was always dark for her, so she didn't mind. He would have looked very handsome, if he had been awake and she could see. She stood there listening to him breathe and then closed the door and left them alone in the dark, only not very alone with the cats, who were cats after all. One of them woke up lazily and batted at him, and he retreated inside and the man turned over in his sleep, clutching at his chest for a second.

Somewhere, he remembered looking up at the sun and thinking: so this is what true love is like.

By the end there were already buds springing up.

\--

_[This will never be used, because the pun doesn't work in Japanese, alas.]_

"The thing is," Emishi began impressively. He stopped, squinted at his coffee, and shook his head. "The thing is that it does take work, more work than anybody thinks. You know the secret of great comedy? Go on, ask me."

Natsumi blinked eagerly a few times. "What is the secret of great-"

"Timing."

There was a brief pause while Emishi beamed, Natsumi giggled, and Paul snorted behind his newspaper. Amon maintained a dignified silence and took the oportunity to sketch a smiley-face in the foam on his cup.

"But ya see," Emishi continued when it was quiet again, "it's a collaborative act. Which is why comedy works best with a partner - the audience don't have to be your partner that way." He absently patted Amon's shoulder. "As we well know. And of course we know each other pretty well. Have to, or the dynamic would be wrong. We've each got a part to play."

"You've seen us enough you probably noticed," Amon added brightly, "Emi-yan usually does the fool and I do the straight man. I'm much better than him at playing the straight man."

"And this from the one who admits to bisexuality."

"Why, Emi-yan." Amon smiled sweetly and raised his mug. "Are you saying you're bisexual and wouldn't admit it?"

He managed to duck the backhanded swing without spilling any cream, and covered his mouth with a dramatic whimper. Natsumi looked caught between embarrassment and glee. "See," Emishi declared. "We do switch sometimes."

\--

_[In Japan, all married couples have the same last name. By law. They can pick which one they use, but it has to be the same one.]_

It was, they agreed later, entirely Madoka's fault. They had been invited to her house for dinner, and stayed afterwards for coffee, and somehow had ended up snuggling on the couch, and Shido had made some remark, and Madoka had giggled behind her hand and said "So when are you going to get married?" Shido sniffed, as if he considered this question beneath contempt.

Amon thought about it for a bit, then said, "We can't."

"Oh, but why not? You always seem so happy together."

Amon gave a dramatic sigh, and Emishi sat back to wait for the punchline. "No, really. We can't. Because then either he'd be Natsuki Haruki, which is a bit much even for us, or I'd be Emishi Amon, and everyone would be too confused to say hello." Madoka blinked and leaned back to mull this one over, and Shido chuckled.

Emishi saw his chance. "You've got no excuse," he declared, and pointed at Shido with what he liked to think was drama and an aura of menace. "When are _you_ going to get married? You should be ashamed! Getting a poor girl in trouble and not doing the honorable thing! You've been engaged for _eleven years_! Haven't you picked a caterer yet? Can't reserve a space? Dunno about Madoka's set, but _we'd_ show up if you held it in the alley out back and served dog kibble." Madoka blushed and moved her hand, which had been resting on her stoumach, into Shido's. Shido blushed as well, and muttered something completely inaudible. 

\--

_[A very morbid joke, which I never managed to work into a fic.]_

"So what was it, anyway?" 

Amon sighed and leaned back, staring at the clouds. "Emi-yan, do you believe in love at first sight?" 

"Hmm? I guess so. It's not like it happens all the time, but once in a while, sure. How come?" 

"Because that's just about what it was. Kind of blew me over. I took one look at you and I thought, that's the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with." 

Emishi blushed. 

"And I was absolutely right!" Amon added brightly, then ducked as Emishi attempted to whack him with the newspaper.

\--


	14. kanji, and other fascinating characters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not previously posted! Goes into my weird headcanon on Maryuudo/Kiryuudo cultural background.

Amon had known kanji existed, of course, but for the first eleven years of his life they simply hadn't been relevant. He could write his name in kanji, if he had to, but it took concentration. The Maryuudo language didn't work the same way. They wrote in katakana when they had to write at all, which wasn't often.

He'd just managed to get his ears pierced, which made him feel grown-up and euphoric even if it had gotten him mistaken for a girl twice, and he was looking for the train station. This wasn't a big city, but it was a bigger city than he'd ever been in before. He tried to find the tracks, but everything was so noisy, and the buildings were so tall, he couldn't get a sighting. So he wandered aimlessly for a bit, kicking an empty soda can and cursing the way his backpack straps cut into his shoulders, and finally hit on the idea of asking someone.

Amon had to wonder around a bit more before he spotted a group of people, standing under an awning and chatting. He sidled up to them, and tried to look adorably lost. One was a cute girl of about ten, so he spoke to her first. "Excuse me, miss. Do you know where the train station is?"

"Huh?" She blinked at him, and fiddled with a bit of her hair. "It's about a kilometer from here. Just keep going south, then turn east on Green Street." She thumbed over her shoulder. "Who're you? You lost?"

"Yep." He grinned at her. "How do I tell which one's Green Street?"

"The one with the sign that says 'Green Street', silly." She looked somewhere between amused and befuddled. He hastily thanked her and retreated before she could say anything else.

How was he supposed to know? They all looked like little blobs of chicken-scratch, to him. He sauntered off, trying to look like he was supposed to be there.

\--

The letter from Shido arrived later than he had expected. Once a season, he'd promised, and Shido kept his promises. It was written in katakana, of course, and uncomfortably so; Shido had no practice with pens. It occured to Amon to wonder if Shido wrote Japanese any better than he did. Well, he could hardly write it any worse. 

Even in a language impenetrable to most eyes, he spoke around the things that mattered. I am well, he said, and have made my way south halfway to Tokyo. I've met a dog who wants to be a wolf. He's travelling with me. Keep heart; all will be well.

Amon blessed turns of phrase and then found himself cursing Shido for being so calm. He hadn't asked for this. He was supposed to be dead. He curled his toes in the sand and watched the waves petering out to nothing along the beach.

The Kiryuudo spoke Japanese even amoung themselves, but they could still read the Maryuudo language if they wanted. It had been their language too, once upon a time.

He memorized the letter, reading it over obsessively while he waited for his little campfire to heat enough water for tea. He hadn't found any dinner, but tea was better than nothing. Then he ripped the letter to bits and dumped it in the fire. It made some nice sparks.

A few good puns came to him as the sun set over the waves, but none of them were in Japanese, so they probably weren't usable. Amon drank his tea and thought bitter thoughts. Life wasn't even offering lemon, let alone sugar.

\--

He really had no reason to bother with kanji, so he didn't. He worked out how to read maps instead. There was always someone to talk to, so he didn't need to read to fill up the time. It worked beautifully until he got arrested.

He hadn't even done anything, was the annoying part. A big man in a knit cap had run past him and dumped a bag in his arms, and before he could work out what to do an old lady had yelled "That's him!" and then he couldn't get away without getting hurt. It took real effort not to scream.

At the police station they asked him why he wasn't in school, and where his parents were. He just shook his head. He wanted to laugh; there was nothing they could threaten him with, was there? Except keeping him there. They were just doing their jobs. He rubbed his ears nervously and shook his head in answer to all thir questions.

Finally they brought a woman into the room. "Look, boy," she began, "you have to tell us something. We're not trying to hurt you, okay? We're not going to shove you in jail. Even if you stole that lady's purse, she got it back, so it's fine. Did you run away from home? Your parents must miss you terribly." 

He choked on a giggle. "Not bloody likely."

"Now, I know things may have seemed pretty bad -"

"They're dead," he interrupted. Why lie? Maybe the truth would get him out faster. "They're dead. I'm on my own and I'm doing fine on my own and I didn't steal that lady's purse, okay? I only take things people throw away!"

"You were found with it, you know." She looked sympathetic.

"Yeah. This big guy in a hat dumped it on me. If everything's fine now, can I go?"

The policewoman sadly shook her head. "If you don't have any parents or guardians to release you to, we'll send you to a foster home. Somewhere you'll be safe. You can start going to school and getting your life together."

He tried to look penitent and hopeful. Maybe it would get him out of here. He hated this place. The walls were exactly the wrong shade of green, he couldn't see the sun, and there wasn't so much as a potted plant around. Already he could feel the blurry headache he got from keeping his powers in taking hold. The poor policewoman hadn't done anything to deserve a heavy if nonlethal draining, though, and he was just going to hold it in. 

"Now, you wouldn't even tell us your name before, but you'll have to tell us so we can get everything in order. Okay?" The policewoman smiled; it looked painted-on. She was wearing pale pink lipstick. He told her his name was Higa Hajime, and she nodded reassuringly and made some scribbles on her clipboard. "Which character for Hajime?"

It was a revelation to Amon that there was a choice. "Uh. The usual one," he improvised.

"The same character as for 'great', right?" He nodded. The policewoman wrote it down carefully and held it out for his approval, and he nodded again. Her eyes narrowed. "You sure?" 

"Why wouldn't I be? It's my name." He was seeing spots around the edges of the room; he rubbed his temples. Go away, go away, there's nothing living here.

She looked pained. "Because I wrote it with the character for 'origin'. You poor boy," she added, eyes downcast, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be fine now, okay? You can catch up on everything you've missed."

He hoped she took his closed eyes for intense gratitude, and not pain.

She drove him to the foster home in her own car, and didn't notice when the sickly-looking bush she'd parked beside became even sicklier as he brushed past. The nice couple there gave him a big dinner of udon, and a bath, and showed him to a tiny room with a futon and a small pile of books. On top was 'Kanji for Beginners', its title written in bold red katakana. When he left, via the window, shortly after midnight, he abandoned his shoes, winter coat, and teapot, but he took 'Kanji for Beginners'. He told himself it was something to read on the train.

\--

Christmas held no spiritual meaning for Amon, but the secular meaning involved lots of cake, and he was completely in favor of cake. He was briefly rich, having taken all the cash of a man who'd tried to mug him last week, and so he bought a very large cake, chocolate with embedded strawberries. In the lamentable abscence of a nice girl or boy to share it with, he took it to a nearby park, sat at the picnic table, and put up a little cardboard sign: WILL FEED FOR STORIES. He was very proud of that sign. He'd done the kanji from memory, then checked them, and they were all right.

He got few takers; most people were indoors even in the warmish weather. An old woman, with frizzled white hair and wrapped in a kimono, sat down with him and boasted about her grandson, a champion bike racer who'd just had his first child, for half an hour. He was encouraging. She called him cute and gave him an origami frog. A young couple in fancy dress proudly declared it was their six-month anniversary, and told him about their diastrous first date. They held hands as they ate. Amon tried not to feel jealous. A middle-aged man, drawn and exhausted-looking, admitted to having lost his job the week before. Amon improvised a nasty pun on the name of the mn's ex-boss, and the resulting chuckle at least took some of the exhaustion from his eyes. They had a bit of fun sniping together. A girl in a high-school uniform told him about her school play. They were putting it on tomorrow, she said. He asked if he could come see. He loved the theatre.

He asked her name. "Manami," she said. "With the 'mi' like in 'ocean'. What about you?" She smiled as she explained it, making it into a flirtation. He never knew what to do when girls flirted with him. It wouldn't be right to react.

"Amon." He didn't volunteer the spelling. The kanji were an affectation, a whim of his grandmother's. His birth had never been registered, and his name was a Maryuudo name. "That's a nice name. It suits you."

She blushed, and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. "I always thought it was ordinary. One year there were three Manamis in my class. But the other two used different kanji, so, well . . ." 

He applauded very loudly at her play. She deserved it. He told her so, at elaborate length, and she blushed again. Then she scribbled something on a scrap of paper torn out of her notebook - a cute little notebook, with a picture of a cute little puppy on it. "If you're ever in town agan, well," and she broke off. "Thanks. For the cake yesterday. And for coming to see the play."

Amon finally looked at it two nights later, huddled next to a tiny fire and wondering how worried he should be that Shido's letter was late. It turned out to be an email address. The chracters weren't unfamiliar, not entirely, but they were strange, all broad curves and funny swoops and no grace at all. Maybe that was just Minami's handwriting, but Amon rather thought it was the romanji. He was too used to katakana. 

There was a fluid grace to katakana. They seemed strong, important. Or maybe that was a matter of handwriting, too, Shido's handwriting. He had never been anything but strong. 

Amon shivered, and ripped the note into four bits before he burned it.

\--

When Shido first mentioned Emishi Haruki's name, he put it in kanji. It took Amon a few moments to work out the inherant pun, and it left him giggling quite inappropriately. Of course someone whose name had 'laughter' in it would make a natural comedian. How appropriate. 

Shido was a little less careful with his words these days, Amon thought. He said, Mugenjou is a desert, but those living here make the best of it. They're strong. The crows are clever, but only half of them will talk to me. It's like another world, like one of the Shinto hells. Overpopulated with demons.

That was an odd metaphor, from Shido. Amon turned it over carefully in his mind most of the next day, while he walked down a dusty, deserted road, halfheartedly waving at the occasional car. The Maryuudo didn't have hells; they liked to keep their ghosts closer to home. 

_[This was as far as I wrote.]_


	15. morning hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not previously posted. More random headcanon, Ban & Ginji this time.

Ginji thinks of the early morning hours as his own time. The rest of his life is _theirs_ , his and Ban-chan's together, but he takes a little time for himself every morning.

Ban's not an early riser. He tends to sleep until ten or eleven, and he wakes up slowly, like a snake that must be warmed by the sun before it can move. Ginji, though, is a perpetual insomniac; he can never stay asleep long past sunrise. For a long while, he would spend the hours between his waking and Ban's just lying there, enjoying the feeling of peace and serenity and _cleanliness_ that even the smell of car exhast and the noise of a million commuters could not shake from him. And he'd watch Ban's face, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the way his face relaxed. 

Eventually, though, he started going for walks in the morning. If they were parked near the Honky Tonk, he'd go have a cup of coffee; Paul opened at six, but even if he wasn't open yet he'd let Ginji in. If not, he'd wander around the neighborhood, peering in shop windows, waving at children walking to school, walking along any handy walls and sometimes falling off, and singing to himself, which Ban tended to smack him for when he did it in the car. 

Lately he's been doing something else. Ban-chan, he realized long ago, was immensely clever and very educated. Ginji couldn't do anything about not being as clever, but he could at least try to be eduacted, if not nearly so educated as Ban-chan. Accordingly, he's been spending his mornings in the library. 

He arrives as soon as its doors open, and picks a book, more or less at random, from the Children's Non-fiction section. Ginji is not a slow reader, but he is not fast enough to finish a longer book in the hour or two he can spare, becaus he is determined to be back at the car before Ban wakes up. Ban, as far as Ginji knows, has no idea that he's ever left the car alone. He could never keep a secret from Ban-chan, but Ban's never asked, so he's never told. It gives Ginji a strange feeling, to know something Ban-chan doesn't, to take something that's his alone from the morning hours into the rest of the day. The memory of the books stays with him for a long time. Maybe it's a suprise. Maybe someday he'll tell Ban that he's been going to the library, and Ban-chan will be happy with it. 

Today's book is on geology. Ginji asked the children's librarian for a good book and she'd pointed out this one, so he plumbs the mysteries of plate tectonics with a willing heart. The librarian is a tall woman with curly brown hair and very pretty earrings. Ginji quite likes her, and every book she's suggested to him has been good. He wonders, though, what she thinks of a teenager reading the books meant for grade-schoolers. 

At nine, he realizes the time, and has to leave the book. Regretfully, he takes it back to the librarian. "Thanks," he tells her. 

"You're welcome," she answers automatically, as she sets the book on the shelving cart. "You know, you've been coming in for months, and you've never told me your name." 

"Amano Ginji." He is astonished by his own blush. "I really like it here," he says. "It's amazing. All this knowledge in one place, and anybody can walk in and find things out. Really amazing." 

The librarian just smiles. "You never check any books out, though." 

"I don't have a library card," he says, and drops his eyes. 

"You could get one. It only takes a few minutes, you know." 

Ginji knows, but he's vaugely aware it also takes identification, which he doesn't have. Ban-chan has a driver's liscence listing the Honky Tonk as his address, which might or might not be real. Ginji has nothing. "I - I'll think about it," he says, and flees. He has to get back to the car before Ban-chan wakes up. 

\-- 

Ban considers the time in the evenings to be _theirs_. The rest of the day is a bustle of work or of looking for work, or even when it isn't, a public sort of tiredness. They'll spend it sitting at the Honky Tonk, or if Ban and Paul have had one of their biannual screaming fallouts, sitting in a park somewhere. People all around them, talking, walking, living. 

But after midnight, when Paul has gently but firmly kicked them out or the parks have grown too cold for comfort, they'll retreat to the car, and then it's just the two of them. 

 

 

_[This was as far as I wrote.]_


	16. High School AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because GB didn't have one anywhere in the fandom, and I was morbidly curious whether I could do it convicingly. Not previously posted. Not finished.

Sakura woke up at six in the morning in the unfamiliar bed, and wasn't entirely suprised to fine Makube had stolen most of the blankets. She tugged gently at them, and he awoke with a start, mumbling and rubbing his eyes. "Go back to sleep," she suggested. "It's barely six." 

"Kakei-sensei?" Makube sat up and shivered, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. "Is it tomorrow already? I have to check my email, Kakei-sensei. Uryuu said he'd let me know if they'd caught Kagami yet, and I'll have to tell Ginji I can't help Ban with - " 

"Hold on," Sakura said, attempting to get some more of the blankets around herself, and pulling him closer in the process. "Kagami? I though it was _you_! I thought you had the only keys!" 

"No. I was so busy with the Olympics, and he said he'd help out - and he asked Masaki-sensei for his keys and Masaki was so busy he forgot to ask for them back - and then last night - " He shivered convulsively and burrowed into her arms. 

"Then _what the hell are we doing here?_ If it was Kagami who - " 

"They don't know that."

"You could explain. I'm sure you wouldn't get in too much trouble." 

"If they believed me. I'm not sure I want to get Kagami in trouble either, and if Masaki-sensei remembers there'll never be any proof either way." 

Sakura suprised herself with the certainty in her voice. "You won't get expelled."

"Not if they work it out, but nobody would believe it if I said it, so it's best not to go home just yet." He blushed and looked away, where her evening gown lay folded on a chair. "Kakei-sensei? I've been meaning to ask - what's your position on student-teacher romances? Morally questionable?" 

"Yes. The power-imbalance offers too much potential for explotative - " 

"But you've finished grading, right?" 

Sakura slowly nodded. "Yes," she said. "I got done early." 

"Good," breathed Makube, and their lips met. 

\--

At nine in the morning Kazuki appeared in the hospital with an enormous bunch of flowers, and was directed to Juubei's room with a minimum of fanfare. Juubei did not rise to greet him, but he managed a small wave. 

Kazuki sat beside the bed, catching Juubei's hand in both of his own. "They wouldn't tell me how you were doing," he said. 

"I'll be fine." Juubei's bandaged eyes seem to give the lie to his statement, but he made it with such assurance Kazuki found himself sighing in relief. "The doctors told me it won't last more than a week. What about you? Are you alright?" He tried to lift a hand to Kazuki's hair, but Kazuki tightened his grip. 

"Nothing life-threatening," he said glibly, trying to diguise his worry. 

" ... Tell me, Kazuki." 

Kazuki gave up and let Juubei lift a hand to run through his hair. What was left of his hair. It was not until Juubei's hand, just below his shoulders, reached the burnt ends, that he sniffled. "It'll grow back," he said. "And it's worse for you. And Shido - Shido'll be okay, it was only second-degree burns, Emishi drove him home - but still - I didn't even get hurt - " 

"I'll get him for this," Juubei said. "I can't believe Makube would do something like this to you." 

Kazuki shook his head, then remembered Juubei couldn't tell the difference. "It wasn't Makube. It was Kagami. Your sister just called me and told me everything." 

"Oh," Juubei said, and was silent for a long time. "Then Kagami is going to pay." 

"It's not worth it," Kazuki said. "I'm just glad you - if he'd - " He sniffled again, then gave up and collapsed into Juubei's arms, shaking. "I was so afraid," he whispered. "Don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I was going to have a heart attack just watching you go off in an ambulance." 

"Have you slept?" 

"No. Toshiki took me home, but I couldn't - not while I was so worried - " 

"Then sleep now," Juubei said, and stroked Kazuki's hair, his hands as firm as always. "We'll recover."

\--

It was almost noon by the time Emishi woke up and stumbled into Shido's bathroom. It was an hour later when he emerged, looking mostly human, with his hair combed and his t-shirt tucked into his jeans. Shido and Madoka were sprawled on the couch, with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band playing at a subdued volume in courtesy to the more hung-over inhabitant. 

"Heya," Emishi said, plopping himself down next to Shido. 

Shido nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. "You feeling better?" 

"Nah. But I'll live. You okay?" 

"Fine. Not even itching." 

"Good." Emishi stretched and reached over to bat at Madoka's hair; she giggled and pulled herself closer to Shido. "Look, I'm sorry about - " 

"Forget it," Shido said, and squeezed Emishi's shoulder. 

"'Kay. Thanks for letting me stay over. It's just that - god, I love every one of my siblings, even the ones in daipers, but sometimes they drive me up the wall. You know? I don't think I was really cut out for this oldest-brother stuff. Definately not a good role-model." 

"You'll do," Madoka said. "And you can always come spend time with us when it gets too much." 

Emishi grinned and let his head fall back, hair spreading over most of the couch. "And I get to tell embarassing stories at your wedding, right? Can I jump out of the cake in a bikini?" 

Unfortunately, he was too hung-over to avoid Shido's masterly strike with the throw pillow. 

\--

Himiko looked up at the wall-clock, which had peacefully ticked past the bundle of forget-me-nots and was approaching the ragwort. She began to tap her fingers on the counter in repetitive patterns. 

Unfortunately, the noise must have covered whatever noise Akabane made when he entered, for he slid the cup of tea in front of her before she had even noticed his presence. She jumped. "Hey! Give a girl some warning here!" 

"Forgive me," Akabane murmured. 

_[More would have gone here - next scene was meant to be the last.]_

\--

"So," said Ginji. "We still on?" He sat his chin on his hands and stared disconsolately at the toothpaste-colored sunset and the outlines of the warehouse district. 

"You fucking kidding me? We can't get past the gate without Makube." 

"Huh? Isn't he coming? He hasn't called me or anything." 

Ban shook his head and stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the planter. "Weren't you paying attention last night? He went off with Kakei-sensei. They're probably in Okinawa by now. Don't blame him. It'll be ages before somebody works out that Kagami had the keys too." 

"Poor guy," Ginji said, and stared disconcolately at his sneakers. "And now we can't get your car back, either. Unless you think that thing with the wire-cutters - " 

"Don't be sorry." Ban gave a rather scary whoop. "Rejoice, brother, for a member of our sacred fraternity has doubtless by now reached that pinnacle of virility - he has Scored With A Teacher." 

Ginji slowly grinned. "Yeah, well, we all knew Kakei had the hots for him. Did you see that dress she was wearing?" 

"Yes," Ban said cherfully. "A memory I shall treasure. Come on, Ginji. We can't get the car back today, but nothing says we can't go back without it. There are girls out there by the dozen. The score. The fucking _hundred_. Perhaps they are not as pulchritudinous as Kakei-sensei, but we shall damn well overcome that. I refuse to graduate a virgin."

\---


End file.
